


Good

by cervidcell



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Begging, F/M, Femdom, Grinding, Mutual Masturbation, Ownership, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Reader has a vagina, Reader-Insert, Riding, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex, also some hints of, femdom kinda loses its kick near the end-ish, kinda a battle for the dom but i mean it's there, reader is a little bit yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cervidcell/pseuds/cervidcell
Summary: You trail delicate kisses down the side of his cheek, pause at the corner of his lips, and continue down the side of his throat. "Do you think you can do something for me, baby?"He heaves in a shaky breath, nod minute, nothing more than a twitch."I want you to touch yourself for me."





	Good

He so clearly hates the way his body reacts to you; the way you smile at him, how delicate your touch is, the smell of your perfume when you lean in to kiss at his neck. The way you praise him.

"You're such a good boy, staying still like that for me." 

Your breath is heavy and clouded with lust, lips brushing with each syllable against his collarbone. He twitches in response, shuffling the binds of his arms but yet unable to pull free. His fog-clouded eyes read fear, lust, hatred, perhaps he doesn't _really_ want to leave, and merely acts on instinct?

It's hard to tell with Lawrence.

There's little cues that you can pick up on, that showcase his true feelings, however hard they might be for an average person to discern. But you aren't an average person; tangled in a web of stalker vs. stalker, both predators, both prey, and with enough time spent within his vicinity you read his wants, needs, likes and dislikes, with much more ease than when you'd first laid eyes on him.

His body's reactions betray the look in his eyes. 

"Oh?" You giggle, maybe a little delirious, a high fuelled by finally, _finally_ tripping him up and capturing him. All for you. Your fingers trail down his chest - you find yourself giddy to feel his twitch in response - and your palm lays flat against the crotch of his sweatpants. "You like this, huh? What was it I did?"

You press your lips to his neck again - he flinches away from you with a stunted grunt, and the chair groans in protest, but he doesn't respond otherwise. Your lips trail down his neck to his collarbone, where you lave slow, delicate laps at the length of it.

"My good boy," you purr, and _that's_ what got him. He gasps, shuffling further back into the chair, and the heat underneath your palm burns brighter. You roll your thumb up along the underside of his length through the fabric. He breathes in a shuddering breath, quickly averting his gaze from your prying eyes.

"I want to do something."

His eyes flicker back to yours, trembling blue - is it fear? is it fire? - and shift to the floor again. "Wh-what..?"

"I need to know I can trust you," your fingers dance up his torso, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. They land on side of his face, where you delicately cup his cheek. His skin has an endearing warmth, and the scruff of his stubble itches a little against the palm of your hand, but it's worth it to see the blush rise up his neck. You lean down slow, slow enough for his shot nerves to adjust, and press a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. 

"Can I trust you, baby?"

It doesn't matter what his answer is. You don't listen, instead intent on the slight twitch of his hips, the catch of breath in his throat, the sweat beading at the nape of his neck...

Whatever he might've said, or done, falls on deaf ears and instead, you reach around his back to grasp the rope. With a flick of the wrist the rope catches on your knife - where'd you get it? Did you ever drop it? You don't really remember, but it's there nonetheless - and faster than you'd expected youd gripped his left hand. 

He doesn't even flinch.

The thought crosses your mind that, maybe, you've been underestimating the effect you've had on him. The physical reactions are obvious, but Lawrence is twitchy, and deer-like, and keeps his feelings - or at least his anger - pretty well under wraps. Until you push him too far. You know you haven't reached that point, when his free hand does nothing more than flex, most likely testing it's newfound freedom. His compliance melts your heart, and you can't resist pressing a tender kiss to his temple. 

"So good for me, angel," the brush of your lips on his skin forces a stutter from his throat. The knife clatters to the floor, but you're too distracted to care. You trail delicate kisses down the side of his cheek, pause at the corner of his lips, and continue down the side of his throat. "Do you think you can do something for me, baby?"

He heaves in a shaky breath, nod minute, nothing more than a twitch.

"I want you to touch yourself for me."

Timid gaze looks up again and this time, his shyness is near palpable. He might be stable enough now, but he's quick enough to turn and you wouldn't be surprised if he'd stomp your face in and leave you choking on your own blood as soon as the option presents itself. You _want_ to trust him; a big part of you _does_ , but the risk is too much. With said imagery in your minds eye, you knot his left hand back to the chair, loose enough to keep him comfortable.

He nods, slow, and unsure, but there's a hint of eagerness in his gaze. A part of you realizes he most likely hasn't done this, which maybe isn't a healthy thing to be excited about, but you aren't one to lie about your own feelings. Maybe this'll be enough to break him. Maybe you can teach him that he's yours, forever. Maybe he'd find being owned the most enjoyable experience he'd ever have.

And who are you to deny him that opportunity?

You grip the waistband of his sweats - and thank God he doesn't wear jeans, or there'd be a lot more shuffling about involved - and tug them down with a wiggle in your hips. He frowns and his cheeks warm up, gaze far off in the corner. Despite his lowered eyebrows, the tenting in his boxers twitches and you giggle. 

Your arms grasp the sides of the table in front of him and you haul yourself up, ass resting on the edge. Your feet sway and your head tilts to the side, inspecting the man in front of you. His shirt is ruffled and askew, hair frazzled and cheeks splotched a deep red. The bags under his eyes are prominent, and oddly kind've sexy. There's a slight tremble in his fingers where he grasps the edge of his seat, thumb tapping anxious rhythms on the plastic. His golden hair drapes partially over your face, and if it wasn't for your comfortable position, you'd be pushing it out of the way so you could see more of him. All of him.

He lifts his hand, gaze flickering between your eyes and the ground as if testing the waters. Slowly, he brings his own hand to his crotch, and presses it down flat, thumb rubbing up and down. A nearly soundless breath escapes him.

"Just do it like you do at home."

He nods, the corners of his mouth tugging a little in what isn't exactly a smile or a frown, either. Stalling for a second, he pulls himself out of his boxers, and your mouth waters at the sight. You'd known he was big when he'd first hardened under your touches, but this? He doesn't have any right to keep you from this.

It's a little weird to admit to yourself, but his cock is obscenely pretty. Long, thicker than average but nothing obscene, and the plush, pink head is glossy with a sheen of precum. It takes every fiber of your being not to jump off your perch and give him a taste. 

Lawrence swallows audibly and closes his eyes, shuddering a nervous breath. His fingers wrap tentatively around the base and trail up his length, thumb pressing into the tip and smearing the precum around. Said thumb draws back down again, pressing into the grooves of his cock. His fingers tighten as he makes a fist and drags back upwards, and you're mesmerized by the movements.

"What do you think about when you do this at home?"

His frown is more pronounced, now, but based off the bite of his lips and the clench of his jaw, he's much more guilty than he is annoyed. He whispers something under his breath - you're pretty sure you know anyway, but you're desperate to hear it from his own lips - and you lean forward on your elbows in excitement.

"Can you repeat that for me, please? I didn't catch it."

He growls under his breath (and you suppress the thrill it sends straight into the depths of your cunt) and whispers again, loud enough for you to hear. "Y-you."

"Hmmm?"

"I - " he huffs, and blue eyes latch onto you with a streak of determination. "I think of you. Always."

"Ah," you click your tongue, and latch your fingers into your own jeans. The button comes undone easily. "That's funny."

His movements slow down as his eyes watch, intent on every movement you make.

Your hips lift just enough off the table that you can shuck your jean off, before you settle down and slip your fingertips over the crotch of your panties. "I think of you too."

He swears under his breath, tugging at himself again, though his gaze stays completely attached to you. He takes in the way your fingers - two of them - press up and down the length of your slit, and the way you push your panties to the side, revealing your wet core for him. He watches as you part your lips for him, and press a single finger inside yourself. 

His head rolls to the side, hair falling down the nape of his neck, curling around his shoulder. His eyes are detached and fogged over, glassy, staring straight into your pussy and his hand movements - whether intentionally or not - copy the speed of yours. You press another finger inside and moan at the feeling, imagining his fingers replacing yours. Your thumb presses into your clit; he copies your movements with his thumb on the head of his cock, fist dragging up and down harder.

"Fuck it," you tug your hand away and slip off the desk, throwing your panties off. He blinks in surprise, tilting his head in your direction. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and you lower yourself on him, stopping right by his cock but not quite close enough, instead pressing yourself on the thick of his thigh.

The movement of his fingers slow, and you grasp his hand. "Don't stop, baby. I didn't say you could stop. Fuck yourself for me."

He swallows thickly and nods, continuing his movements with renewed interest. You rock your hips on his thigh, grinding your clit along the length. You lean in to him, breath puffing against his ear. He jacks himself off much more naturally now, movements smoother, more familiar, and he whines in your ear. Your cunt grinds hard against the thick of his thigh, teeth pressed into his delicate collar bone, a low, heady growl tearing itself from your throat. 

"You're so - you're so fucking good, Lawrence," you mutter, and he whines in response. The pressure on your clit builds higher, and the roll of your hips speeds up. You fuck yourself on him like a wanton whore, breathing low pants of his name against his neck. His hips buck up into his hand, thumb rubbing taut little circles against his frenulum. 

One hand grasps his thigh hard, whilst the other slinks up into his ruffled hair and pulls his face towards you, pressing his lips against yours. You muffle whatever he tries to say against your lips - he sounds completely debauched, and part of you wishes you'd heard it, but another part of you just doesn't care so long as you get to taste more of him. He kisses back with a quarter of as much enthusiasm but it's still _something_ and you'll grab anything you can get from him.

He whines when you part from him, spit-slicked lips bitten bright red and his gaze is hazy. The sharp inhale of breath - the buck of his hips, wrist moving faster, a stuttered moan - causes you to reach out and grab him. 

"Stop," you press yourself closer and lick up the length of his neck. "Not yet."

He swallows with no objections. 

"I wanna feel you cum inside me." 

Lawrence huffs, an ' _oh_ ' whispers from his throat but you cut it off with another kiss. Your hand drops his, trailing up his arms (and trace around his tattoos, something you'd always found exotic and so _him_ and _perfect_ despite their simplistic design) and up into the mass of his hair. Fingertips play with the baby hairs around his neck,while the other hand weaves deeper and presses him as close as you physically can.

Both of his arms tug, but only the free one manages to grab you by your hip, tugging you closer to him.

"P-please," his lips brush against yours. It's one of the only coherent words he's said and God if it doesn't make you giddy. 

A giggle bursts from your throat - Lawrence flinches at the abruptness, but you can't help it - he's just so _pretty_ and _perfect_ and _yours_ and the little noises he makes, the sighs, the moans, the way red paints his cheeks deep, expanding over the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears - all of it bundled together is a rush unlike any other.

"Tell me what you want."

His fingertips dig into the meat of your hips, head rolled back, eyes fluttered closed. 

"Please," his voice is so soft, delicate, rattled but oh so sweet, "Please, f-fuck me."

You laugh and nuzzle into his neck. He grips harder. 

"Since you've been so good for me," you purr, "I'll let you free. I trust you, baby." 

You nip at his neck and reach down, barely grasping the knife with your fingertips. Securing it, you time the cut of his binds with the lift of your hips. His newly-freed hand immediately grabs onto your waist. One hand plays in his hair, whilst the other grasps at his cock, sliding the head along the entrance of your cunt. The slick of his precum mixes with your own, which some part of you delights in, and you entertain the thought of telling him before his voice breaks through your thoughts.

" _Please_ , please fuck me -" His eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed, teeth bared - "I-I've done what you said, I need - I _need_ to f-feel you, _please_ -"

His rambling cuts off with a sharp inhale of breath as you slip the head of his cock into your pussy. His gaze flicks open, immediately drawn to where your bodies connect. Teeth gnaw at lips and you're certain he's torn between fucking you as he wills and reveling in the incredulity at his pitiful pleading actually _working_.

With a grunt, you lower yourself slowly on him, the stretch an oddly pleasant burn. The drag of him filling you, the scratch of his nails, the scent of his shampoo so close to you, it's all enough to make you lightheaded. Each inch of him slips in slow, and you pause every so often, needing to focus on your breaths. He's much bigger than you'd expected - not so much thick, not that he's lacking in that department either, but _long_ and filling you in ways you'd never imagined possible.

Finally, after what seems far too long, you're seated entirely on him. Your clit brushes against his skin, and he gives a grunt at the feeling. A bead of sweat trails down the side of his face, over his temple and down into his hairline. With a loud swallow, he glances up at you, blue eyes dewy and wet with unshed tears. You brush your thumb over his eyelid.

"You're so beautiful." It's the most sincere you've sounded - and why not? It's true - and you punctuate it with a kiss, much more gentle than previous ones. He doesn't return it, but he also doesn't pull away, which is at least _something_. You smile against his lips. 

"I guess you've earned this." You adjust yourself on his lap, and lift up off him slightly, slipping back down him slow enough to draw a whimper from his throat. Your lips trail down the length of his neck as you fuck yourself on him, punctuating each smack of his skin against yours with a kiss. His head rolls back, eyes fluttering closed and lips slightly parted. He mutters something under his breath - it sounds like praise, but you aren't sure - and yet you can't find it in yourself to care. 

"Tell me how it feels, baby." You purposefully clench down on him, and he gasps, shooting up straight. His fingertips shake at your hips. 

"Warm," he huffs, averting his gaze from yours. "It - you feel really good." His eyes clench shut as you give a particularly hard thrust, and he mutters an expletive. 

"Good boy," you praise, and his fingers dig into your hips harder. 

"C-Can you.. faster?" His voice is so delicate, soft, adorable. You can't wait until he can't speak anymore.

"You want more, angel?" You smile and nip his throat, leaving a mark behind. "If you want more, you're gonna have to take it."

His gaze locks with yours, eyebrows furrowed.

"You'll have to _fuck me_." You press little kisses up and down his throat, his Adam's apple, the jut of his collarbone. He breathes in, shaky, and his thumbs rub circles into your hip bone. 

His hands shake as he rolls his hips up into you, and the gasp you give - maybe a little put on, but if it makes him feel better - seems to be a confidence boost. One of his hands trails down your hip, to your thigh, and down between your legs to your mound. His hips pick up the pace, building up into smooth, somewhat controlled thrusts. 

"Fucking hell, you're a quick learner."

He smiles, tiny, and barely-there, and his face angles away from your prying eyes. His fingers seek out your clit as he fucks into you, prodding around blindly until you inhale at the brush of him against your clit. There, he rolls the pads of his fingers in tight circles around your clit, thrusting into you in time with the movement of his fingers. He bounces you on his cock, the harsh slap of your ass on his thighs driving you all the closer. 

His gaze flits over your face; he stalls at your lips, trailing down your torso and stops at your breasts. Slow, like a punished puppy seeking the right answers from it's master, he leans in and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, giving a tentative little suck to it. Your fingers curl in his hair and push him into you more. You kiss the crown of his scalp a few times over, pointedly ignoring the slight grease buildup. 

"You're perfect, angel - God, you feel _so_ fucking good in me," you ramble, eyes closing in ecstacy. One hand dips down the curve of his back, nails trailing down the length, leaving red scratch marks behind. He fucks into you harder, growl tearing from his throat at the sensation. He pulls off your breast and nips the curve of it, gaze hazy and unfocussed. 

" _Yes_ -" you gasp in both realization and delight. His cock hits against your G-spot, and his fingers work harder at your clit. He bares his teeth and bites hard at your neck, hard enough for you to worry about damaged skin but it's in the back of your head, now, while the rest of you tells you to bare your neck for him.

"Bite me - _bite me_ , make me yours - " you're rambling but Lawrence doesn't seem to mind, sucking marks into your collarbone that'll stain your skin for at least a few weeks. You scramble to grab his face, mashing your mouth to his in a fervent kiss. He bites your lip and the way he kisses back leaves you breathless. 

"Tell me who owns you, angel." You murmur between kisses.

"Y-you do."

"Say it." You keep your lips pressed against his, the warmth all too tempting to ignore. He grunts and thrusts a little harder.

"You own me. I - I'm yours." His pitch hitches up near the end, and you grin.

"Good boy. Now make me cum."

He fucks into you with renewed vigor, his own pants and moans flowing freely from his lips. Your hips move in time with his, and you desperately try to press him closer to your cunt at every opportunity. His teeth bite down on his lip, and he stutters out a low moan, eyes clenched shut. His breath warms on your neck, pain flaring from where he's torn the capillaries under your skin. Tears bubble at the corners of your eyes, thighs clenching tight, cunt squeezing his cock and you're so close to crying; his voice squeaks out, a whimper of your name, and with that you're cumming hard around him, jolting and thrashing on his lap. You roll your hips with each undulation of your cunt, breathing hard in his face. 

He chokes, throat taut, whispers ' _oh fuck, fuck yes,_ ' and he rambles as he fucks you through your orgasm. His head drops back, tears flow free down his cheeks, and he must've forgotten himself because drool pools at the corner of his lips. You don't exactly blame him when you feel your eyes roll into the back of your head, the continued ramming of his cock in you too much for you to handle. You slur vague praises at him under your breath; you aren't sure what exactly you're saying, but the intent seems to get across regardless. Lawrence's hands shake on you and grip you harshly, holding you still as he fucks into you one last time, before crying out your name as he cums. His hips rut into yours as he spills himself entirely into you. He slows, and gradually stops, dropping you onto his lap.

Lawrence buries his face in your neck, inhaling deep. Some of his cum slips out from between your pussy lips, and the sensation is a little uncomfortable, but a pleasant reminder that you've got him caught entirely. The way his arms wrap around your waist confirms that.

You rest your chin on the top of his head, fingers tracing delicate patterns into his scalp. You curl his hair around your fingertips and let the tendrils fall loose. 

"That was perfect. You're such a perfect boy."

You feel him smile into your skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to @Atroposisms for being a continuing source of inspiration for me!  
> Also much love to Gatobob for both creating this adorable perfect man and also for taking on a commission from me <3 
> 
> [I'd also like to apologize for suggesting Lawrence considering like at least 2 other people have as well and a ha ha ha that might be very tiring to draw over and over again but gdi he's so dreamy]
> 
> For more trash feel free to check out my tumblr @ valeander.tumblr.com !


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